Well I went to my favorite little stream today. It's a good thing that what we do is called fishing and not catching because today all I did was fish. There was no catching involved. I tried White winged Black Stimulator's, Royal Wulff's, Red and Yellow Humpies, Caddis, Quiggly Cripples. My old standby SJW and a red Copper John.

I had lots of hits and a few LDR's . But I don't think that the fish wanted to be handled today. Of course maybe it was that I was day dreaming when I had the hits. I was a day late and a dollar short on all the hits I had.

The weather was shitty as usual. We are having lots of rain this year. It seems to rain just about every day now. I got there and the sun was shining. But that didn't last. I got rained on, hailed on, thundered on, and lightening on. I saw a lightening flash about 100 yards in front of my truck. Scared the shit out of me. Closest I've ever been to it. The wind was also doing it's thing. I like it when the wind blows. It keep the bugs and flies at bay. It's hell trying to cast a 3wt in the wind but it can be done.

Maybe the next time I go it will be catching instead of just fishing.

Of course I drove past the Beaverhead on my way up into the hills. There was enough boats and people on the river to populate a small town. Well this is all for now. Got to mow the grass tomorrow maybe Thursday I'll get out again. Going the other way then. Maybe some small streams that run into the Big Hole.

Sounds like you're feeling better & you still had more fun than I did at work.

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My gout was really acting up. I could barely walk for three days. It felt like I had needles going through my ankles when ever I put pressure on my feet to walk. All I could do was hobble from one room to another. Usually it is in my joint for my big toe. First time it was in my ankle. I hope it doesn't go there again.

Where I was there were only two people fishing in ten miles of access. When I left there were five more people out. Solitude is where I go. The fish are plentiful, but the people aren't.

What gets me is the road is right next to the Stream. And the stream is loaded with fish. Granted they all ain't big fish, but I'm not a big fish fisher person. What I fish with is two 3wt's and a 4wt. It's a blast on those rods. Longest one is 7'9". I can hit all the water in a given section. Widest spot is maybe 40 ' Deepest I can't see the bottom.

Glad to hear ya got out fishing! Me too! I paddled for about 7 hours, and got a little fishing in, too.

Ahhhh.....solitude! I was way back up a creek in the back of the estuary, basking in my hard won total solitude, when some yakking yakker paddled around the corner and started asking me questions! I made the mistake of trying to answer, and got my Reversed Spider hung up on a submerged log. At that point, I recognized the paddler as a local waterfront homeowner, who had called out to me from his beach a couple of years ago, and on that occasion when I stopped paddling to answer, I also got my trolled streamer hung up on the bottom.
"You again!" I thought.

So I freed my fly, and slung a sidearm cast under some low overhanging alders right next to the rooty cut-bank, let it sink, gave it a couple of strips, paused, feelt a nudge and set the hook, and came up with a fat 10" cutthroat. As close as one can get to being right on cue!
"This is what I came here for," I hinted. "I needed some casting practice, so I had to get somewhere where I could practice my casting alone." I stressed the word alone.

The other paddler was too chatty for my liking, as I didn't paddle way back there to get in any conversations, so I then launched into a gnarly, heavily negatory rant about poachers, which soon sent him on his way.
Then I got back to my fishing.
It was slow...I caught one fish per every 2 river/estuary miles.

You'd think that folks would just leave an old fly fisher who paddles 7 hours and several miles (12 round-trip) to get away from all the idiots and enjoy some solitude, to his fishing. Why do they have to butt in to our solitude and start asking questions?

Glad to hear ya got out fishing! Me too! I paddled for about 7 hours, and got a little fishing in, too.

Ahhhh.....solitude! I was way back up a creek in the back of the estuary, basking in my hard won total solitude, when some yakking yakker paddled around the corner and started asking me questions! I made the mistake of trying to answer, and got my Reversed Spider hung up on a submerged log. At that point, I recognized the paddler as a local waterfront homeowner, who had called out to me from his beach a couple of years ago, and on that occasion when I stopped paddling to answer, I also got my trolled streamer hung up on the bottom.
"You again!" I thought.

So I freed my fly, and slung a sidearm cast under some low overhanging alders right next to the rooty cut-bank, let it sink, gave it a couple of strips, paused, feelt a nudge and set the hook, and came up with a fat 10" cutthroat. As close as one can get to being right on cue!
"This is what I came here for," I hinted. "I needed some casting practice, so I had to get somewhere where I could practice my casting alone." I stressed the word alone.

The other paddler was too chatty for my liking, as I didn't paddle way back there to get in any conversations, so I then launched into a gnarly, heavily negatory rant about poachers, which soon sent him on his way.
Then I got back to my fishing.
It was slow...I caught one fish per every 2 river/estuary miles.

You'd think that folks would just leave an old fly fisher who paddles 7 hours and several miles (12 round-trip) to get away from all the idiots and enjoy some solitude, to his fishing. Why do they have to butt in to our solitude and start asking questions?

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He was trying to find out what your secret bait is... you didn't tell him about the Twinkie did you?

Twinkie...that'd be a good name for a fly. No secret bait. I discovered a few new secrets, though. The only way I'd share 'em is if someone tight-lipped paddles along with me, sees what I see, and figures them out for themselves.

Twinkie...that'd be a good name for a fly. No secret bait. I discovered a few new secrets, though. The only way I'd share 'em is if someone tight-lipped paddles along with me, sees what I see, and figures them out for themselves.

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Twinkie isn't a fly. Wasn't sure if you'd read The River Why. Now I know the answer is no.

Hm, I might fit the description. Too bad I sold my Old Town Appalachian, though, I've got nothin' to paddle, only to row and that sure isn't conducive to a 12 mile round trip!

For you, Jim Speaker, and for OMJ if he ever made it out here, we'd break with paddling tradition, launch the 16'er and cruise in style. It's shallow back there, and can get a bit tricky when the tide drops, and if you don't know the territory and where the channels are, you can suddenly find your power boat stuck on a mud bar. (Don't ask me how I know...). That's why its good paddling water.